Inversion
by ShadeShifter
Summary: What if Martin had followed his father's plans for his life? Warning: disturbing and violent imagery.


Disclaimer: Without a Trace and the characters of Martin Fitzgerald and Victor Fitzgerald are not mine. Craig is, but he doesn't count for much.

As always – many thanks to Moonbeam for beta'ing this despite a busy schedule.

**Inversion:**

The boy struggled against the ropes which bound his wrists. He could feel the warmth of his blood trailing down his hand to trickle unerringly to the floor. In the last eternity since the man had left the room he hadn't been able to loosen the ropes at all and he was beginning to lose hope.

He had worked out enough to know that no ransom had been demanded. From the way the space under the door seemed to lighten and darken he thought he might have been in this hell for two days, though he couldn't quite be sure. He certainly hoped that it hadn't been two days. He watched TV. He knew that after the first two days it was unlikely they'd find him and God, he didn't want to die here.

He hadn't even reached the legal age for driving yet, never mind drinking. He'd never told Tracy just how hot he thought she was. He'd never seen a girl naked. He was going to die a virgin. All because some bastard thought he'd get his jollies by murdering him.

Craig had heard about the other three kids. He knew he was going to die. The others had. Missing for three days and then found somewhere public. God, he didn't want his body on display for anyone and everyone to see. He didn't care if he was dead at the time.

The man entered the room again, looking up disinterestedly as Craig tried to struggle once more. The ache in his wrists from skin rubbed raw by the rope seemed to fade when he realised that this was it. These were his last moments of life. His last few breaths. He'd never hang out with his friends again, listen to music, have his mom tell him to eat his peas or get told off for running in the passages at school.

He had a moment of panic when he realised that he'd forgotten to hand in his English homework before he realised how absurd that thought was. The desperate thought entered his mind that at least he wouldn't have to hand in any homework ever again.

"They'll see how it should have been soon enough," the man told him and Craig flinched away from the outstretched hand which gently brushed his hair out of his face. He stared into hauntingly blank eyes that were set within a sympathetic face. He didn't know how it was possible to look so sincere with such dead eyes.

The sincere expression melted into one of pure rage. Craig didn't think it was possible for a human to contain that much rage. He felt warmth stream down his leg and it took him a moment to realise that he had wet himself. For the briefest moment he was almost glad he was going to die because he didn't want to be aware when they found him like this.

"I won't let it happen again," the man snarled and the quietly simmering fury was scarier than any yelling Craig had ever heard. An object came swinging inevitably at his head. Craig couldn't quite make it out except for the brief flash of gold and metallic blue. He wasn't sure he wanted to make it out at all. Gratefully he sank into darkness, never realising the tears which spilled down his cheeks.

_WaTWaTWaT_

Martin looked down at the body with a blank expression. The boy's parents would know just how precious their child was now. They would realise how much they should have nurtured him and been grateful for the gift that he was. They would now know better than to ignore him and override his wishes. They would know better now and they'd never make the same mistake again.

He loosened his grip on the trophy he held. A debating trophy. His first actually. His father had insisted that he be proficient in public speaking. After all, what good politician couldn't speak publicly? Never mind the fact that he had been terrified of getting up in front of a crowd of people or that his nerves would cause him to throw up before any of his debates.

Of course, things were different now and he could appreciate the fact that his father was right. Debating had certainly helped him when he chose law as a career. The number of times he had lost a case were minimal and were only because a perfect record would have been suspicious. Already he had been accused of tampering with witnesses and evidence among other things, but the charges had all been dropped. He'd even made judge before he was 30. Not that he could have accomplished that without his father's influence, but that was simply a means to an end.

Now his aims had shifted to pursuing a political career, just like his father had always wanted. Truth be told he rather enjoyed the power and was looking forward to one day being president. He had certainly worked hard to cultivate a wholesome, all American image. By all accounts it was working.

Martin dropped the trophy into a basin filled with cleaning agents designed to degrade the blood so that samples would prove useless. A precaution, since he didn't plan on letting anyone get close enough to solving the murders that they'd be taking samples. Now all he had to do was dump the body. Preferably somewhere public, where people would be more likely to see his message.

_WaTWaTWaT_

Victor was sitting in his office at home when there was a polite knock at his door before it swung smoothly open. Martin walked calmly in, dressed casually in a pair of grey slacks and a white turtleneck sweater.

Victor carefully laid down the paper he had been reading so that the bold type stating "Serial killer continues rampage" could be seen.

"Mother says that dinner will be ready in five minutes," Martin informed him. His mouth twitched briefly into a smug smirk before the relaxed expression fell back into place.

"Martin, you have to stop doing this," Victor urged.

"Doing what?" Martin asked with a carefully constructed expression of confusion.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Martin. I can't keep covering up for you."

"I wasn't aware that I needed you to."

"This isn't how I raised you."

Martin smiled a pleasant smile that sent chills down Victor's spine.

"But father, I'm exactly as you made me."

_fin_


End file.
